A Remnant Of A Greater Whole
by Kaeni
Summary: How do you continue on in a world that's been shattered beyond recognition, and is plagued by horrors uncounted? How do you continue fighting a battle lost long ago? These are all questions Blake Belladonna must answer as she awakes in a world remade by a terrible Scouring...
1. Chapter 1

A Remnant of a Greater Whole

 **A.N.**

 **I'm back. For a number of reasons, I haven't posted for ages, but finally, I have returned. During the last time I posted and now, I've come to several very important conclusions. The first is that both my current stories are in need of serious work. The exact flaws each of them has will be explained on my profile when I get around to it, but just know that updates will be a long time coming for those two. Apologies to all those who wanted updates sooner/now, but I cannot devote time at the moment to fix the issues they have. With that out of the way I can explain the reason I'm starting a new story to you all (I have enough time to write new stories, in case you were wondering). It's simple. I'm a victim of multiple ideas syndrome, something that plagues all writers, and I just can't hold the tide back anymore ;-). Without further ado, I present to you chapter one of A Remnant of a Greater Whole.**

 _oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo_

" _From the skies, gods once came. They wore great suits of black armour that even the claws of the Grimm could not pierce, and none could stand before them. From vast chariots in the sky they descended, riding burning comets to the surface, while their vassals followed, borne aloft by screaming Valkyries. Surely, many thought, the doom of the Grimm was near, for nothing could stand before the gods and their armies?_

 _It was then we learned that they did not come as saviours, but destroyers, and they drowned the kingdoms in their own blood, leaving naught in their wake. Then they gathered those who had survived the terrible Scouring, and cast them out into the midst of the Grimm. And so a time of great woe and sorrow did fall upon the people of Remnant, and many despaired." –The Book of Remnant._

 _oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo_

The first people saw of Bastion was always its mighty walls. Constructed from the knowledge passed down through the tech-magi they loomed tall and unbowed. No Grimm had ever breached the dark stone-like material, and the gates stood as proud as the day they had been built. The priesthood proclaimed it the work of the God-Emperor, a divine gift to preserve the faithful from the predations of the Grimm. The tech-magi argued that the Machine-God had erected them in a single night as a sign that he regarded their work with favour. However, they had come to pass, they never failed to awe the traders and nomads that caught sight of them for the first time. Surely they must have been a work of the time before the Scouring, similar to the treasured Sentinels of the Guard or the Servitor bodyguard of the royal family. Alas the records had been corrupted by time, and the truth had most likely fallen into obscurity forever.

The rest of Bastion was equally a grand sight, for the rows of houses that ran throughout the town were decorated in vivid colours, and prayer banners fluttered above the streets. Passages from the various Creeds were often nailed to the colourful facades of the houses, while small symbols emblazoned in the architecture declared the owner's faith. In a place so blessed by the dual gods of the Imperial Pantheon, belief was everything. After the walls perhaps the most inspiring sign of the righteousness of those below was the soaring cliff above. Various structures punctuated the towering surface from houses perched precariously to the Emperor's Walkway, or the forge of the Machine-God, all clung like limpets to the sheer stone.

Bastion's wonder did not cease upon reaching the plateau above, for another of the Machine-God's miracles was present there. A vast canopy of transparent material, far stronger than the coloured glass the heretical traders brought, covered the fields of crops that lay there. Protected from the roaring winds and bitter rain, they always prospered, and the concept of famine was foreign to Bastion's populace. The golden fields stretched for miles, bounded only by walls that matched their counterparts down below. The fields were dotted with the farmers' homes, and the roads that connected them to the rest of Bastion. As thanks for such good fortune, the farmers more than happily donated portions of their crops to the tech-magi so that they could create the fuel needed to run some of the various machines that Bastion relied on.

It was thanks to the Machine-God, more than a few whispered snidely, not the God-Emperor that the people of Bastion were fed and did not starve like the faithless beyond Bastion's walls. The Emperor's devout merely ignored such blasphemy, for His glory was evident in the very centre of Bastion, a sign of who truly favoured those who worshipped the Imperial Pantheon. A vast grove of fruit-bearing plants and trees dominated the central plaza, and it was from there that the Medicae Corps gathered the ingredients for their various medicines, and the food merchants harvested their more exotic wares. In the very heart of the glade stood a weathered statue of the Emperor Himself, proclaiming his power to all around Him.

If one was to go beyond the vibrant wood that bloomed inside Bastion, even past the pens of the farm animals destined for the slaughterhouses one would come across the entrance of the mines. The source of the metals, coal, gems and occasional Dust crystal that fed the Machine-God's forge, they were the bedrock upon which the tech-magi displayed their God's generosity. Each year, upon the Feast of Gears, the forge would unveil the fruits of the tech-magi's work, perhaps a few thousand las-guns to protect the faithful, or even two or three new Sentinels to join the ranks of the Guard. Whatever the bounty the Machine-God's chosen produced, there was always raucous celebrating as the gods continued to bless their glorious city and its inhabitants. To those who lived there, the future was bright, for with the God's favour upon them, how could anything go wrong?

 _oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo_

" _Fear the Alien. Hate the Alien. Kill the Alien. "-The Imperial Guardsman's Uplifting Primer (Damocles Gulf Edition)._

 _oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo_

The earth trembled beneath their weight. Countless Grimm, they stretched as far as the eye could see, an endless tide of black fur and hateful red eyes emerging from the forests below. They raced towards the slope that led to the pass with single minded determination, nothing would distract them from their goal. Bone armour decorated with elaborate markings gleamed in the weak sunlight, and once again Guardsman Vickers almost upended the contents of his stomach onto the grass. The faint stench of rotting meat was carried by the rising wind up to them, all that remained of those who had encountered the foul creatures, no doubt. The few traders and nomads that had arrived in Bastion had spoken of how many Grimm there were, but they had been thought to be merely exaggerating or outright lying. They had not expected this…this horde! Preacher Augustine stepped past him and ascended a pile of sandbags, reminding Vickers that with the gazes of the Imperial Pantheon upon them, and with one of noble birth among them, how could they possibly lose? The Preacher raised his vox-caster to his face, the rest of the contraption balanced precariously on his back and roared the one phrase that ever child in Bastion learned as soon as they could walk.

"THE EMPEROR AND MACHINE-GOD PROTECT!" Preacher Augustine may have begun the chant, but five thousand voices echoed it whole-heartedly. Old Glory, the pride of Bastion, a hulking beast of metal and smoke known to the tech-magi as a "Leman Russ", opened fire. The crack of its main gun was deafening, and in the distance, a dozen Grimm disappeared in a cloud of dust. Preacher Augustine stepped down from the makeshift platform of sand-bags, and dropped down once more into the shallow trench. He casually withdrew a revered las-pistol from his robes, decorated with dual images of the God-Emperor and Machine-God, and pointed it in the direction of the Grimm. Vickers and his squad mates eagerly followed his example, and began steadying their las-guns against the sand-bags, aiming them towards the mass of charging Grimm.

The long-lases of the various squads began to discharge, thin red streams of light flying from their barrels. Hundreds of Grimm slumped over dead, the shots hitting their marks again and again in a display of accuracy that many of the amassed Guardsmen could only envy. Most of the honoured Sentinels' weapons systems had begun to unleash an even greater hell upon the Grimm, ancient plasma weapons, autocannons or las-cannons sending hails of rounds flying over the assembled Guardsmen's heads. A Death Stalker, blinded by the Guards' sharpshooters, trashed around, lashing out with wild abandon at anything within range, sending various Grimm flying. Old Glory's heavy bolters began to fire with a rattling cough, gunning down those foolish enough to get in its way. Captain Woods, from atop Old Glory's turret, lowered her chain sword, a signal eagerly awaited by the rest of her army.

A scarlet hail erupted from the Guardsmen lines, and countless Grimm toppled over, innumerable holes seared into them by the initial volley. Vickers jammed his finger again and again on the activation rune, and howled with the sheer adrenaline of the moment. The wordless cry was taken up by many, a primal sound that echoed all around the hill they were entrenched upon. Preacher Augustine roared catechisms from the various Creeds, calling upon both the God-Emperor and Machine-God for protection, and beseeched them to strike down the Grimm in hate-filled passages and litanies. As the Grimm reached the bottom of the hill they were upon his las-pistol matched his vitriol fury, spitting and hissing deadly beams at the approaching creatures. When it became clear that the Grimm would reach their lines, the order to fix bayonets echoed down the ranks, and the rate of fire decreased as the first few ranks clipped on the knife-like appendages. Preacher Augustine merely unclipped his shining sword from his belt and with a press of a button, bright white lighting sparked all around his blade.

A Ursa Major leapt for Vickers squad, and as the first rank moved to intercept the beast, the ranks behind merely continued firing over their heads, putting into practise the manoeuvre they had spent hours perfecting in training. Preacher Augustine swung his blade, and the crackling field of energy that emanated from it sliced it in half. Sergeant Agaves not to be outdone, sent his chain-sword straight into the gut of a Beowolf, the sharp teeth of the sword biting deep into the Grimm's stomach. His revered bolt-gun blew the head of another apart with a single shot, splattering the hatchet-faced man with dissolving gore. Sergeant Agaves was no doubt conserving his ammunition, as bolt rounds were difficult to come by in Bastion.

Agaves risked a glance back, and shouted to the squad's vox-carrier. "Corporal Katherine, orders?!" Katherine merely replied in the negative, and Vickers stole a look at his betrothed. A dark frown had settled on her face and Vickers did not have to guess why, for while the Sergeant and the Preacher were striking down Grimm in droves, it was clear the rest of the Guardsmen were not doing so well against the beasts.

He rammed his bayonet into a Ursa's leg, gouging the bear-like Grimm's' thigh, but failing to do any real damage. The Ursa reared backwards, bellowing in pain, before a nearby Sentinel fired its plasma cannon right into its stomach. Vickers stumbled back, panicked, the bright blue projectile narrowly avoiding him as it passed overhead, the heat almost unbearable. He moved to reclaim his rifle, dropped in his dash to safety, just as the supposedly dead Grimm lurched upright. One of its swinging claws cleaved his armour open, the sheer force behind the attack sending him tumbling into his squad mates. With blurred vision he watched as the Grimm tore the pilot straight from the Sentinel that had fired upon it, and almost callously threw her behind it with bone-shattering strength. She disappeared into the mass of Grimms at speed, a grey-green blur with bright red hair.

Vickers collapsed to the bottom of the trench, his breathing suddenly coming in ragged, difficult to draw breaths, no longer supported by his squad mate's steadying hands. He heard Sergeant Agaves giving the command to fall back, even as the predatory mask of a Griffin loomed above him. The last thing he ever heard was his betrothed screaming his name, then the razor sharp beak plunged downwards. He was dead in an instant.

 _oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo_

" _Cometh the hour, cometh the man." -?_

 _oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo_

Captain Woods surveyed the battlefield before her with a critical eye, her heart slowly sinking. The Bastion Expeditionary Force was outmatched and outnumbered badly. While the ground they were fighting on favoured them, and the initial volleys had devastated the Grimm horde, the Guardsmen were still being scythed down left and right. The formations her soldiers had fallen into were designed for fighting far smaller packs, and with superior numbers on their side, not the enemy's. Her decision to keep the Sentinels behind the ranks of infantry had proven to be a wise one, as they could continue firing into the massed horde before them from relative safety. It was only a matter of time however before the majority of the Grimm broke through the ranks of the Guard, and then any chance of survival, let alone winning would be lost. She needed to call a retreat, God-Emperor preserve her, and she needed to do it fast. The longer it took for her to extricate her forces, the less likely there would be more than a few hundred that made it back to Bastion grew.

"Orders are as follows" she shouted to the vox-operator of Old Glory, her voice barely audible above the din of battle "Fighting Retreat Number Seven". He immediately began to relay her orders, working the dials and keys of his work station frantically. Tech-sergeant Belmont began to turn the lumbering behemoth they were in around, no doubt having overheard her orders. Various Sentinels turned and ran as fast as they could, while the rearmost Guardsmen scrambled to get into the horse-drawn wagons they had deployed from. Two dozen platoons, those that remained in the trenches, began to cover their comrades. There were over a thousand valiant soldiers continuing to hold the tenuous line down there against the monstrous Grimm. Woods expected them to buy her ten minutes, and she was never one to waste borrowed time. It was a good thing she had left the supply carts on the other side of the pass, otherwise their escape route would be bottlenecked with all the vehicles. Most of her forces would make it, it seemed.

Something was beginning to niggle at her however. She could spot several lone Griffins mingled among the beasts slaughtering her men, but they were too spread out and too few numbers to be a pack. And Griffins always travelled in packs. Warning bells went off in her mind, something wasn't right… That was why she was only half surprised when hundreds of them came screaming down from the clouds. They landed right in the midst of the retreating Guardsmen, crushing dozens beneath them.

"Aerial Assault!" she roared, her bolt pistol spewing rounds at the nearest of the vile things, "Disengage and head for the pass!" One of the Griffins lunged at Old Glory, and she casually beheaded it. The various wagons, their drivers whipping the horses to go faster, pulled away, racing from the battlefield. Old Glory surged forward once more, Belmont pushing the machine to its limits. Woods almost smiled, imagining the consternation his actions would cause among the tech-magi if they saw how he was handling their precious relic. Her half smile vanished when she looked behind her once more. Many of her soldiers had been unable to make it to the wagons on time, and were sprinting in a desperate attempt to escape. With the rate at which the Grimm were catching them, none of them would reach the pass. At least, not in time to save themselves.

Old Glory pulled itself up the last few metres to the other side of the mountain with a piteous, guttering sound. The few tech-priests that were a part of the army glanced suspiciously at her when they heard it, but she ignored them. They were lucky that Old Glory hadn't been destroyed in the battle, never mind what state it came back to them in. Impatiently she looked around for Magos Zero, the priest (she hesitated to call him a man) that she had left in charge here. If he and his little entourage hadn't finished with the task she'd given them before the battle, then none of them had any chance of seeing Bastion again.

She was made aware of the Magos's presence by the scraping of metal on metal that always accompanied him. In his dark red robes, and with his strange, metallic extra limb that darted and twitched around him, he was an imposing sight. She swallowed slightly, before addressing him. "Have you done what I asked?" she said, trying not to let even a tremor creep into her voice. The damn man or thing or whatever he was scared her immensely, not that she was going to let him know. "Yes, Guard-Captain third-rank, Elizabeth Woods, we have set the explosive charges as you wished. We estimate that they have an eighty-one point seven six percent chance of creating the effect you desire." Her fear of the man was briefly offset by the irritation she felt at his use of her full title. It made her feel inadequate, second rate, whenever people mentioned that she wasn't a full Guard-Captain, as though her hard work meant nothing. She quashed the feeling, and looked around.

The last of the wagons and Sentinels had made their way through the pass, though there was still plenty of running figures on the slope. She momentarily felt her resolve falter, but her nerves steadied when she saw the black tide racing ever closer behind them. "Detonate them." She ordered, and the Magos merely nodded, before speaking in Binary to one of his acolytes. The squealing, grating language was another reason she couldn't stand the man. A deafening boom echoed all around them, then the rockslide the charges had created roared into the pass and threw up a blinding cloud of dust. When it had finally settled, the gap that had once cut through the mountain was gone, filled with the amount of debris that only an explosion could create. And as Woods stared at the devastation she had just ordered, only one thought sprang to mind. How was she going to explain this to the King and the Council?

 _oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo_

" _Quinctilius Varus, give me back my legions!"-Caesar Augustus on hearing of the ambush at Teutoburg Forest._

 _oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo_ "-I ordered the pass to be destroyed through the use of explosives, then led the Expeditionary Force back towards Bastion. We sustained further causalities through the harrying of small packs of Griffons that followed us as well as small groups of Beowolves already in Bastion territory. That is all that happened up to this debriefing, sir." Woods watched the brooding council to the side, aware vaguely that she was sweating. This meeting was in reality them passing judgement on her. She had sent the entire report on by vox three days ago. Most of her attention however, was on the king. Mercifully king Vincent the Second had forgone his brutish Servitor bodyguard. Formed from the body of a witch killed during the founding of Bastion, it was a sight that gave Woods nightmares whenever she saw it. Despite the absence of the vile thing, it did not make her any more comfortable. She knew almost with certainty that she would be would be stripped of command altogether, demoted to a corporal or worse. She could even be executed or turned over to the tech-priests to work in their mines as a slave. She wasn't sure which was a worse fate, though considering High-Magos Josef's glare, it was most likely the latter that she would be sentenced with.

"This was your first command, was it not?" She nodded her head nervously "and how many casualties were there, Captain third-rank Woods?" the king asked softly, deceptively calm. "Two thousand, six hundred and seventy-three Guardsmen were killed, five Sentinels were destroyed or lost, and…Preacher Augustine has been reported missing. He was last seen leading a party of Guards into the forests from which the Grimm emerged, sir." Rage flared in the man's face when he heard Augustine's name. With visible effort, he restrained himself from unsheathing the plasma pistol from his side and ending her with it. "It is a great pity that I cannot turn you over to High-Magos Josef as he has requested, for while you lost your first battle pitifully, you bought Bastion time to prepare itself. Thanks to your stunt, the Grimm must go all the way around to the High Fords to enter the valley, and only then can they descend upon Bastion. The tech-priests have consulted with the Machine-God and have divined that it will take upwards of a year for them to make the trip, provided that winter is as harsh as it appears it will be." General Hutson cleared his throat, and the king graciously allowed him to speak. "With all due respect sir, the time it takes for the Grimm to reach Bastion matters little. With the numbers that have been described, they could easily swarm over the walls if they wanted to." That was just like Hutson, Woods thought venomously, always covering himself in case of failure. "That is a concern for another day General, for now we discuss the fate of Captain Woods here."

Captain Woods tensed, her fear rising again. She had an ominous feeling that whatever the king was going to say next was not something she was going to look forward to. "Therefore, I am giving you a chance to redeem yourself." A dangerous glint entered Vincent's eyes. ". Leading a group of ten, your mission is as follows. You are to find my son, who you so callously abandoned, and then you are to proceed onwards to the heretics' camps in the north, and see if you can rally them to our aid." Captain Woods' heart lifted considerably, while the trip would be dangerous, countless traders made it every year. The Grimm invasion would make it even easier, drawing the Grimm away from her path. Finding Augustine would be far trickier, but the man could handle himself, and he had at least a squads' worth of soldiers with him, perhaps even more. Compared to how events had been going previously, this was a miracle. Surely the God-Emperor was watching over her!

"Oh, and Captain? While I would like you to choose the team that accompanies you, there are two spots that are already filled. A representative of the tech-magi of course." She nodded fervently, she could handle that, most tech-priests knew how to handle themselves in a fight, and they always armed themselves well with weapons she could only dream of. "The other is a bit of a special case, but I'm sure you can handle her." The king leaned forward, and suddenly the reason for the dark pleasure in his gaze became apparent. "You wouldn't mind taking a witch along with you, would you? I'm sure you can keep one of those in line, can't you? With your command skills that cost me an army, I'm sure you can handle a beast even Saint-Magos Alris was unable to kill." And just like that, Captain Woods knew she was doomed.

 _oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo_

" _You ask why we must cleanse the xenos. I will tell you. The filth of the alien and the witch must be exterminated to preserve the purity of the human race, lest we degenerate into abomination." -Witch Hunter Tyrus, at the Conclave of Vera._

 _oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo_

In the depths of the Machine God's forge, lies a large, heavily guarded chamber. Inside, protected by doors forged from heavenly adamantium itself, are kept relics too valuable to ever see the light of day, each placed there by the founder of the forge, the legendary Saint-Magos Alris. The doors had been barred and sealed for over a century, never opened. Now however, acolytes chanted the rites of unsealing, as four of the Magos communed with the chamber's Machine-Spirit. Finally, the Machine-Spirit complied and the chamber's gates swung inwards, revealing the forge's great treasures. All these were ignored however, for the dull grey pod that sat in the centre of the halls. A single pale face, wreathed in black hair could be seen, as the Magos began the chants needed to unlock the mystical statis pod, just as the Scriptures said. Smoke hissed from the pod as the door was gently opened, just as the Scriptures said. Two Magos roughly caught the occupant as she tumbled outward, unconscious, just as the Scriptures said. They began to lead her away, to prepare her for the task she had been awoken for, just as the Scriptures said. For the first time in over a century, the witch of Bastion had been released.

 **And so ends the first chapter of A Remnant of a Greater Whole. Questions should be asked in reviews, and I will reply by PM. All my stories will have no confirmed schedule until summer, as I have little time to constantly pump out chapters, this one included. I would appreciate it if people gave suggestions for quotes (as that will help speed up the production of chapters.) Read and Review and I'll see you all in the next chapter.**


	2. Chapter 2

A Remnant of a Greater Whole

 **A.N.**

 **Apologies for this chapter taking so long, but as I'm sure I said somewhere else, I have been doing an exam year up till now. As such, most of my time has been taken up with studying, which means substantially less time writing. Then after the exams I lost most of motivation to do anything, so its only now that school has started back that I have mustered the energy to write. I'm quite grateful for all those who've taken the time to review this story, and since I have yet to draw any cries of heresy, I will promptly plough on with the next chapter of A Remnant of a Greater Whole. Right after the review replies though.**

 **The God Emperor of Mankind: I will try and avoid any lore discrepancies, but I may miss some, so if see them, point them out. A lot of my knowledge on certain factions is drawn from the Warhammer 40k wiki, so I may make large mistakes when it comes to them.**

 **BluePanedGasMask: This story will be featuring RWBY characters, and the Witch of Bastion gets revealed this chapter.**

 **With that out of the way, I give you chapter two of A Remnant of a Greater Whole.**

 _oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo_

" _The gods besieged the mythic realm of the North, and for three days their assaults failed to breach the kingdom's mighty walls. The skies above where rent and torn by the gods Lightning's and Thunderbolts, as mighty Basilisks churned through the mud to spit fire at the mighty bulwarks. The gods themselves duelled the greatest heroes of the age upon the ramparts in a mighty test of strength. On the fourth day however, the gods tore through the gates, and the heroes were cast down at the foot of their broken walls. And so the North burned for its defiance, and the final battle was lost." – The Book of Remnant._

 _oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo0oo_

Her mind registered the cold first. The surface she was lying on felt like a bed of icy fire, burning her with its chill. She tried to rise, but the movement sent a wave of agony coursing through her and she collapsed back down. She hadn't moved far of course, the restraints she could she feel around her arms and legs prevented her from so much as lifting her body an inch. Her mouth was as dry as the deserts of Vacuo, and a headache pulsed constantly through her skull. She didn't want to open her eyes, because if she did that she'd have to acknowledge whatever had left her like this. Her memories were fuzzy, but she was fairly sure that thing had been large, and had possessed pincers. A spasm ran through the protesting muscles of her left arm, which the restraint helpfully reminded her that she was immobile-wait restraints?!

She opened her eyes and winced as a blurry figure appeared in her vision, the indistinct features suggesting a monstrous visage. It would take considerable self-control for most normal people not to outright scream at the sight before them, but considering the way her life had been degenerating before now she didn't think she could be counted as "normal" anymore. Instead, she merely blinked, to confirm that what she was seeing was real, then ignored it completely. Her survival instincts had belatedly kicked in, and as her vision began to clear she surveyed her surroundings. Her limbs were tightly shackled to her sides by thick manacles, leaving her entirely at the mercy of her captors. The rest of the room was starkly lit, the harsh light glinting off the various medical tools and implements that lined the walls. A small workbench protruded from one of the walls, which was covered in several sheaves of paper. A quick tilt of her head allowed her to get a better view of them. What she saw made her blood run cold. Anatomical drawings of countless Faunus were carelessly strewn about on the desk, charting everything from their skeletal structure to a detailed depiction of their eyes. Several of the diagrams had mechanical parts grafted to the Faunus from what she could see, but what horrified her the most was how each Faunus bore a perfectly drawn face, their expressions of agony and terror included.

"I see you've noticed my collection, beautiful aren't they?" Her attention snapped back to the person who had been staring at her, and for the first time since waking she felt real fear coil around her heart. The creature that stared at her had a terrible beauty about it. The right half of its face was had an angelic beauty to it, with a bright blue eye and flawless white skin. All of his heavenly characteristics ceased on the other side of his nose though. Metal plates and wiring covered it, a mechanical horror straight out of a nightmare. A red artificial eye was located were his eye socket must have been previously, glowing ominously. A small round speaker had been built into his cheek, despite the fact that his mouth was perfectly fine. It was macabrely bizarre, both repulsive and strangely compelling. Above his strange features perched a neatly combed mass of blond hair, lustreless and limp.

It took her a moment to realize that the man had continued talking, apparently oblivious to her stares or lack of attention to his words. "-I am always so sad after a test subject expires, because then there's no more fun to be had with dissecting them. Screams are such pleasant background noises to honest work." His voice was…off she noticed, and it took her a few seconds to place why. While he spoke from his mouth with a lilting, pleasant tone, the speaker droned the same words in a toneless, robotic drone. The two voices overlapped to create a disturbing mixture that was maddening. "My research is progressing slower, less efficiently because of it, and while I find it… agonizing that I cannot pursue the Machine-God's will as fast as possible, one must take joy from one's work or the toil is worthless no?" He turned his full gaze on her for the first time, and it took all of her willpower not to flinch when his mismatched eyes settled on her. There was a harsh intensity in his right eye, a kind of sadistic brilliance that revelled in her obvious discomfort. His left gazed at her dispassionately, a steady gaze that analysed her coldly. It was a stark contrast to the barely restrained insanity that lurked on his human features, but everything about the man was based on opposites. The red robes he wore where the only thing that did not reflect the man's strange duality, though she could guess why. Red was a sacred colour to the Machine Cult after all.

The suspicion had begun to grow in her mind as soon as she had realized that she was strapped to an operating table. It had only heightened when she had seen the collection of…implements on the walls. The man above her was undoubtedly a tech priest, if his robes, features, and the way he so casually discussed cutting up live people for the glory of his god. It seemed that some of the horror stories about what happened to captured Faunus during the war had been true after all…

She was shook from her thoughts abruptly when the man reached down and slapped her. "I asked you a question, you worthless piece of Faunus filth!" his face had contorted in anger, his red bionic seeming to glare balefully at her. "I guess I cannot expect pleasant conversation from a heretical Faunus who is also a witch, thrice-damned that you are. It would be unfair to expect a beast that communes with daemons to be able to understand social niceties, I shall note that down for prosperity." Almost as soon as the outburst had begun it had ceased, his human features softening again. She looked at him bewildered, and if it wasn't for the reddening mark on her cheek, she wouldn't have believed that what she had just seen had happened. He turned his back on her, and moved over to his worktable. His strange double voice drifted over to her as she lay there, her head buzzing with countless questions. "You are an incredibly rare specimen; do you know that? While many Faunus have passed beneath my blades, none have been witches. I wonder how a connection to demons has further mutated your body away from the holy form of man. I simply can't wait to operate on you, the very thought makes me ecstatic."

She tried to suppress the pang of horror that ran through her at those words. He was going to dissect her, and judging from the pictures she would suffer horribly while he was doing it. She shivered as he held a scalpel up to examine it, and closed her eyes. She had no desire to see him cutting her up if she could help it. The rustling of his robes signaled that he was beside her now, and she tensed slightly. Perhaps if her Aura was at full strength she'd be able to stop him slicing her open, but she could barely feel a trickle, not even enough to stop a pin, let alone a knife. Was this how she died, far away from what remained of her friends, being taken apart by a tech-priest for his research?

She felt his hot breath on her cheek, and then a band of cold metal clicked in place around her neck. Her eyes shot open once more, and saw the vicious amusement that glimmered in his human eye. "Unfortunately, the king still has use for you at this time, and even a tech-priest such as I must obey his orders. That is why I've taken the liberty of placing that explosive collar around your throat. Attempting to remove it will result in a detonation that I estimate will theoretically punch through that Demonic shield of yours that the Scriptures mention. If this detonator is used" he held up a slim rod "it will have the same outcome. Disobeying orders will give the holder of the detonator the right to terminate you." He delivered these words with a solemn tone, his expression serious. "And if that happens you'll go boom!" A manic grin blossomed on his face, and he laughed, all trace of his prior solemnness gone. She lay there stunned, absorbing the deluge of information that had poured from the man before her.

She was the captive of a madman, who would've cut her open if not for the fact that some "king" wanted her for something. Her heartbeat began to slow down when she released that for now she was safe. That very act was what roused her suspicion. The sudden fact that it seemed as though her life had been in jeopardy moments ago, and then she was suddenly spared? By order of the local ruler no less? It seemed strange, especially as the fact the tech-priest was allowed to casually operate on live Faunus without repercussions indicated that the regime she had found herself in didn't care much for Faunus. The king wanted to manipulate her, make himself seem like someone good or just by stepping in and saving her.

For a moment she felt like lashing out, thrashing around, screaming at the unfairness of her life, that rather than waking up to her friends' visages, she was stuck in some nightmare place were Faunus were vivisected by insane people. Then her more logical side kicked in. What good would that kind of behaviour be? Tantrums had never gotten her anything, why should it do anything for her now? Her best bet was to play along with whatever scheme the king had in store for her until she got a chance to bolt, then she'd run. She could be patient when she wanted to be, a trait that had served her well during the war. With the ease of something well-practiced, she shoved the images to the back of her head. She didn't have the luxury to reminisce about those days now, not that she ever wanted to. That chapter of her life was over, and that was that.

Another smack from the tech-priest brought her back to reality. Blinking slightly, her head ringing, she belatedly noticed that her restraints had been undone by the scowling Magos. "As much as I wanted to examine how your cat-like ears work, and the many hours of fun exploring your brain we could have had, the king is not someone that likes to be kept waiting."

She sat up eagerly, and for the first time caught a full glimpse of what she was wearing. The clothes she last remembered wearing were gone, replaced with a dull brown tunic and accompanying trousers. On her feet were a pair of sturdy black work boots. The metal collar clung to her neck, a constant reminder of her status as a prisoner. The tech priest grabbed her arms and slapped a pair of manacles onto them. A small chain connecting the two heavily restricted her hand movement.

He hauled her to her feet, and roughly dragged her across his laboratory. She yanked herself out of the man's grasp, breathing wildly. The tech priest looked at her strangely, seemingly confused by her behaviour. Then he shrugged and strode forward, opening the door with an ease that riled her. She hated being restricted and caged. She'd had more than enough of that in her life.

A man in dull khaki armour stood outside, his dull features twisting in distaste at the sight of the red robed man in front of her. He brightened slightly at the sight of her though, oddly enough. "You took your time, _honoured Magos,_ the king is waiting" he said. The tech-priest returned the vehemence, his eye sparking with malicious glee. "Don't speak out of place, _Faunus,_ the king should not presume to rush the rituals of the Machine God." She was somewhat startled by those words, and gave the man another look. His green eyes seemed human, as did his wavy brown hair. His teeth however, were elongated, standing out in his tanned face. Any other animalistic features he possessed were hidden by his armour and clothes.

She realized that she was staring, and quickly turned her gaze away. The tech priest looked at her with another of his strange looks, than snapped a quick "Hurry up!" She was forced to lengthen her stride to match his relentless pace and the guardsman feel into a steady lope beside her. The hallways they passed through were sparse and barren, decorated by the occasional cog or mechanical skull. Wooden doors marked the walls at regular intervals. A few more tech priests passed them by, giving her and the guardsman disapproving looks. If they deigned to look at them at all. Eventually they reached a large gateway, carved entirely from dark metal. The Machine God's symbol was picked out in brilliant gold. Two guards, dressed in a black version of the guardsman's armour opened them as they approached.

They stepped out into brilliant sunlight. She took a deep breath, savouring the fresh air after the staleness of the indoors. She stood on a stone walkway, carved into a vast cliff. Below her a large city sprawled, brightly coloured and dotted with trees. The architecture was similar to Mistrals, full of small houses and thatched roofs. It was a marked difference from what Vale had been like. She ignored the stab of pain thinking about Vale caused. There was nothing but ashes to go back to anyway. The tech priest hurried her along the walkway, into another building that towered over everything below. She guessed it was the palace.

She only caught glimpses of ornate decorations and statues, before they were ushered into a large state room. An oak table sat in the middle of the room, surrounded by important looking officials and soldiers. She noticed maps of the surrounding area on the table, but the scale was far too small for her to figure out where in Remnant she was. They seemed to have walked into the middle of a heated discussion, as a tech priest and what appeared to be a high ranking soldier argued. "I have told you again and again, Guard-Captain first rank, Thanos Underwood, that the forge cannot produce a las gun for every able bodied person in the city. Not in three months, and certainly not with the equipment lost during the battle. It is unreasonable and illogical to continue accosting me when I have clearly dictated the facts to you." The Magos voice was an angry buzz of static.

The Guard-Captain responded with indignant gusto. "You have extensive mines operating within the city, plenty of acolytes and a deadline with severe consequences should you fail, Fabricator. What more do you want? Surely you believe that the Machine God will aid you in the defence of this holy city. Or is your faith in the Imperial Pantheon lacking?" An angry smirk had found its way onto the Captain's face.

The Fabricator bristled, his myopic red eyes flaring brightly. A burst of static signalled that he was about to respond-." Enough." The voice was quiet, almost unheard, but there was an undeniable authority to it. It was the tone of a man who expected obedience, and wouldn't tolerate its absence. Instantly the Fabricator's rage seemed to vanish, and his eyes dimmed once more. The Captain's features tightened, the smile sliding from his face. There was suddenly no trace of the argument that had been happening beforehand.

"Captain Underwood, I'm sure that the tech priests will deliver more than enough weaponry to defend Bastion with. Fabricator Iron, I am sure that the Captain's insult was not intended in the slightest. Was it dear Captain?" The broad features of the captain had begun to sweat slightly. "N-no, my liege." She connected the dots immediately, and it did nothing for her nerves. The king of "Bastion" did not seem to be a forgiving or merciful character, if he could intimidate one of his military aids with ease.

"Excellent, I'm glad we sorted out that little disagreement. In the future do try not to waste twenty minutes of my time with pointless bickering. I find it rather tedious. Especially when we are expecting a guest. Magos Thule, I thank you for tending to her when she awoke. Guardsman Henderson, I cannot express my sincere gratitude for escorting her to me. I give you leave to go now, and suggest you prepare for the journey." The words were said with sarcasm masked with eloquence. Henderson and Thule both bowed, and left, though Thule passed the detonation device to a nearby servant. The servant scurried towards what she assumed was the throne and handed it to the king. That was when she got her first proper glimpse of the king.

He watched her with familiar amber eyes that had haunted many of her nightmares. The hair was wrong though, a motley orange that a certain mobster had possessed. The cock-sure grin all but confirmed it. Her breath caught in her throat, and her mouth was dry.

"Back to the matter at hand, ladies and gentlemen of the Council of Bastion, may I present our prestigious guest? I promise she won't disappoint. The Butcher of Vytal, the woman who slew demi-gods, the Witch of Bastion, the one, the only, Blake Belladonna!"

Blake felt trapped, as though the world was closing in around her. A dark thought began to surface at the back of her mind. The king noticed this, and his smile only widened and grew colder. "It would be rude of a royal personage like myself not to tell you my lineage. I am Vincent Torchwick, son of Ash and Georgia Torchwick, with Ash being the son of my grandfather, Roman Torchwick. I believe you knew both him and dear old grandmother? Or at least of her? You failed to save her life after all. My grandfather never forgave you for that, you know?" The false joviality had slipped from his voice, revealing the _hatred_ beneath. "Nana always was resilient though, being the Fall Maiden helped quite a bit with that."

Blake fell to her knees, overwhelmed. How long had she been asleep? Where any of her friends alive anymore? Had they thought her dead when she had simply disappeared? She was too distraught to notice that Vincent had risen from his throne and was walking towards her. He grabbed her hair and forced her to look at him. "Figured it out, have you? The things that made your life worth living torn away and gone. Now you know how my grandfather felt when his wife died." He drove his knee into her stomach, and Blake felt the air rush from her lungs. She gasped, and struggled to breath. She wanted to run, flee, escape from the horrible reality in front of her. She would never see Ruby, Yang or Weiss ever again. She felt weak and dizzy, her thoughts were in disarray.

"I admit I don't have the best control of my temper, and right now I would like nothing better than to shoot you now." He placed the barrel of a las-pistol to her temple, while the Council watched impassively. Blake tensed when she heard felt the gun touch her head. Fear ran through her veins, but a small voice was whispering that dying would end the nightmare she had woken up in.

"Unfortunately I have dire need for your particular talents to find my missing son. You succeed, and bring him back alive, and I will consider the debt that you owe my family paid. Saving one family member in place of another that you allowed to die seems fair, does it not?" The las-pistol was suddenly pointing towards the floor. It discharged violently with a whine, burrowing a hole in the marble floor. Blake started, flinching away from the scarlet line. "If you fail in returning my son safely, then you suffer the same fate as the floor. Fitting for Faunus scum, wouldn't you say?"

Vincent turned away from her, walking back towards his throne. "Oh, one more point I should mention. Only you and the leader of this little rescue mission know about the objective to retrieve my son. The others believe that you are simply to make an alliance with the heretics to the north. While that is another little errant you can run for me, as interest on the debt I am collecting, it is not the true reason you are being brought along. I trust you will remain discreet about this, otherwise, off with you head!"

"Guards, bring her to the tech-magi's workshops, she needs to be properly prepared for her journey." Strong arms gripped and lifted Blake up, and she didn't resist. She was still in shock from realizing that all her friends were no more. Her last sight of the throne room was Vincent handing the detonator to a servant, staring cruelly at her all the while. Then the doors closed and his vicious gaze was cut-off. Blake didn't even notice the tears that fell down her cheeks. Her friends were gone, and there was no returning them.

 **You guys hate Vincent yet? Apologizes for the very late chapter, but after the stress of an exam year I needed a nice long summer break. Besides, these chapters take quite a while to produce, as I much prefer to take my time with this story, since I find I have less corrections to do later on. I recommend listening to the RWBY volume three music or the Warhammer Radio app if you have that instead, while reading. Read and Review, and please if you have any quotes you think will work in the story don't hesitate to send them to me.**


End file.
